


Bitterblack Café

by julien_schu



Category: Dragon's Dogma, Dragon's Dogma: Dark Arisen
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julien_schu/pseuds/julien_schu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Barroch is a barista at the wildly popular Bitterblack Café.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitterblack Café

**Author's Note:**

> It all started from here: http://julien-schu.tumblr.com/post/51135881610/sempermaria-julien-schu-for-the-last-time

He supposed being a barista wasn’t all that bad for someone who just wanted to take a break; he had a shiny MPharm degree under his belt, but felt like arseing about for a year or two before finally going through the boring pre-registration training and passing the equally boring pre-registration exam to finally become a boring but properly certified pharmacist like his old man wanted. The job paid decently enough and there were all those tips from his regulars who swore up, down and sideways that no one else knew best as to how to prepare their drinks, especially the café’s signature Bitterblack coffee. 

His co-workers were also decent enough, with decent here meaning ‘sometimes displayed odd behaviour, but at least did not turn up at work covered in blood and carrying an axe’.

There was Ashe the assistant manager, a tall bastard with untidy hair and a rather unnerving fascination with Grette, the manager who turned up only when she felt like it and even then, spent most of her time in the office in the back. The few times she did deign to show up before the café’s customers, she seemed nice enough - even motherly to some - but there were also times she had a rather deranged look in her eye, which predictably enough, terrified everyone but for Ashe and himself.

There was also Olra, Grette’s second cousin removed to the power of twenty-seven, who uncannily enough, bore a great deal of resemblance to the latter. Unlike Grette, she did not display deranged-ish behaviour (except for that one occasion when she cheerfully admitted that she sometimes heard voices in her head; he hoped she was joking) and was actually rather sweet. This last quality placed her as the cashier-cum-waitress, who was also in charge of the scratch-off cards the café gave out after a minimum number of purchases, as well as their prizes.

The scratch-off cards were rather popular, with hordes of students and pretentious young idiots almost always eager to trade them in, despite the likelihood of obtaining a good prize was ridiculously slim. (One young idiot was even convinced the scratch-off cards were cursed, for he had traded fifty to obtain fifty identical mood rings, whereas his young idiot friend had traded only one to get the much-coveted limited issue Bitterblack Café T-shirt.)

The cards were one of Grette’s better ideas, along with a pastry she had christened ‘Festival Pie’ that bore no resemblance to any kind of pie known to man and alien, and neither was it terribly festive. Still, the pasty was rather delicious and thus a hit with the customers, unlike that ghastly dessert Grette thought of that was made of chocolate and almonds (allegedly anyway - he never saw how it was actually concocted), but looked and smelt like rancid meat. (It was rumoured that fishermen actually bought the culinary abomination to be used as bait, although privately he felt the bloody thing would have attracted not only fish, but also vultures, fairly large hyenas and the occasional starving lion.) There was also a strange blend that she insisted stay on the menu; goodness knows why, for to describe the brew as vile and sickening was a compliment. Then again, some people bought it just so they could give it to other people they hated, so perhaps that was the reason  _Effluere_ (three parts Brazilian Santos, two parts Arabica, one shot of raw sewage and two parts voodoo) remained on the menu.

The café’s regular customers were also (mostly) likeable lot. There was that traveling salesman (who apparently did not do much traveling, judging by the time he spent in the café), a talkative young blonde who dropped Theological Studies and was now pursuing something in Economics, that portly businessman from across the street and his brat of a daughter, as well as a foreign guest lecturer teaching at the local university with ridiculously shiny blond hair who seemed to attract an unhealthy amount of admirers.

Said admirers were also regulars and were sometimes capable of carrying an interesting conversation with him, but  for some reason would immediately turn into complete tongue-tied idiots when Mr. Tall With Shiny Hair walked into the café, much to the chagrin of their respective long-suffering wingman or minion or BFF or whatever it was that passed for best mate these days. There were times he felt like strangling them all, but that would just deprive of him of tolerable drinking companions at the nearest pub when he ended his shift.

Barroch never thought that working at the Bitterblack Café would be more amusing and profitable than setting up his own underground meth lab.


End file.
